


Delirious Night

by voodoo_smile



Category: Indie Music RPF, Music RPF, Pop Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, The Cure (Band), music and bands
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Erections, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanfiction, First Time Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Making Out, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Rating: M, Rating: NC17, Recreational Drug Use, Slash, The Cure, Work In Progress, robin gallith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoo_smile/pseuds/voodoo_smile
Summary: Setting: Robert/Simon, 1978-79.Disclaimer: I do not own The Cure. Everything described in this story is fictional.* Inspired by an article in which Simon states that when he first met Robert when they were teens, they ended up getting drunk in a pub and danced together to "Everything's Tuesday" by Chairmen Of The Board. He remembers absolutely nothing about the rest of the night after that. Well, that scenario sounds just to damn sexy to leave alone *Ah, the days of no phones/GPS...you didn't know where the hell you were going. Try reading directions/looking at a map while driving - a total nightmare! Kids today have it much too easy 😜
Relationships: Simon Gallup/Robert Smith
Comments: 34
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. More will be posted as it develops.

He didn’t know why he felt so good, but he did. It had been a while since he felt a genuine sense of happiness and well-being especially whilst sober, and he did miss that.

A pint of beer was plunked down in front of him on the bar amid the crowd and noise, stirring him from his thoughts, but Robert pushed it away.

“What’s the matter?” Simon asked as he sat next to Robert, eyes widening, utterly shocked that he hadn’t taken a sip yet. After all, it was customary for them to belly up to the bar after the Easy Cure finished their set.

“Nothing.” Robert answered quietly, a grin spreading across his face as he watched his friend slide the pint glass in front of him again. But Robert only sat back, folded his arms and looked at Simon, a breathy chuckle emerging.

“Are you sure you’re…?” Simon scooted closer and stared at Robert, “What’d you take earlier then?”

“Nothing!” Robert repeated, amused, “I didn’t take anything. Really… I’m just-I dunno…happy…”

“Ha!” Simon laughed, shook his head, and took a drink from his pint, “ _You?_ Happy???”

“Yeah… Why not?”

And now Robert _did_ want to know why that was so difficult to believe. They’d met a little over a week ago—barely knew each other—and somehow, Simon seemed to read more into his demeanor. He felt a twinge of trepidation, yet that same, familiar happiness crept through at the same time. It warmed him so, and he nearly laughed at his own absurdness.

“You’re a moody bastard is all,” Simon shrugged, “Gotta piss…” He announced as he rose from his seat, playfully, yet roughly, nudging Robert’s leg with his own as he brushed by.

“Fuck off.” Robert mumbled and half-heartedly tossed a soggy beer mat in his general direction.

He couldn’t really argue with Simon—was well aware of just how quickly his frame of mind could change, and he grinned at his friend’s observation; _the all-knowing Simon_... was the sentiment that immediately came to mind. Or perhaps his miserableness was much more obvious than he previously assumed. And with that thought, the light-hearted taunt began to turn sinister as he picked at it over and over, his mood beginning to warp and darken.

They’d only socialized a handful of times, which for Robert, meant little; mere acquaintances only scratched the surface of what he considered friendship. He never regarded what other blokes thought of him in the slightest. But for some reason, this person’s opinion of him most certainly did matter—almost to the point of panic now; and he felt his chest tightening at the very thought of this potential friend viewing him as some sort of cantankerous character, an unpleasant irritant, an _ogre_ …

 _Enough_. As much as his intention was to _not_ drink this evening, he was beginning to brood and the night had only begun. He needed to calm himself. What was the harm in one pint? He reluctantly reached for the glass and took a long drink, his gaze lowering to the bar as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Hey, Rob…”

It was Simon’s voice from behind, but it didn’t register to Robert at first. He was still looking down, deep in his dejected thoughts, and he took another gulp.

A nudge to his shoulder finally roused him and he turned around.

“Rob?” Simon paused, eyeing Robert for a moment, taking in his troubled appearance and furrowed brow, “Jesus…you think too bloody much.” He chided before lighting a cigarette.

 _All-knowing Simon_ …Robert thought again and managed to smile thinly, his mood slowly becoming more buoyant as he looked at Simon, that bright grin a pleasant distraction

He leaned forward unexpectedly and spoke quietly, his smoky breath hovering near Robert’s ear as his hand lightly squeezed his shoulder, “Got some weed.”

And with Simon’s grin widening, exposing that brilliant smile as he stood in front of Robert, he couldn’t possibly refuse.

***. ***. ***

The pot they smoked behind the pub was strong and it was good. It was just what Robert needed. He felt weightless as they strode back inside, the dreadful disco music blaring, and they made their way to the bar once again. But it was Simon who insisted that they dance, and Robert sputtered with laughter as his pint glass was wrenched out of his hand and he was promptly dragged away by his wrist.

It couldn’t have been more of a disaster for Robert; coordinating his arms and legs and the rest of his body to music in a graceful manner was never one of his talents. He couldn’t ever seem to get it right and being as stoned as he was didn’t help matters.

Typically, being on any dancefloor was strange, and with no guitar to hide behind he felt uncomfortable, vulnerable…though that didn’t seem to be a problem for his new-found friend. Simon’s movements were fluid and confident, but not pretentious. Even as high as they both were, it seemed effortless to Simon. It was almost like he’d danced to this song before, and what the song was, Robert couldn’t say; he was too transfixed by the lithe figure swaying and swirling around him. The music didn’t even matter anymore…

Simon smiled crookedly and grabbed Robert’s hands, hauling him out of his heady, pot-induced trance, and pulled him in until their faces were only inches apart. Initially, Robert drew back, but those warm hands gently gripped and tugged, his smile growing even wider, almost teasing Robert… And Robert simply couldn’t stop himself then; moving in toward his friend until their bodies nearly touched, resting his head on Simon’s shoulder and closing his eyes as if it was something they had done countless times before.

He giggled into Simon’s neck as he felt himself being twirled around. It was as if Simon was leading the dance, and Robert laughed some more at that ridiculous realization. This was something he only ever did with his girlfriend. He was _never_ one who let himself be led.

Robert pulled his hands from Simon’s grasp and dared to place them firmly on his hips just then—it felt so _right_ …and when Simon moved closer, moved his hands to Robert’s shoulders, for the first time he could actually _smell_ Simon. He pressed his face into Simon’s neck, emitting an involuntary sigh at that sharp yet sweet scent as he breathed out.

The song ended and the music stopped for a moment. They continued their gentle swaying, erupting into breathy chuckles caused by clumsily stepping on each other’s feet, oblivious to the catcalls and shouts of “poofters” and “piss heads” from their bandmates on the sidelines.

But when the next song began, Simon’s pace increased and Robert faltered, almost losing his footing and he clung to Simon’s hips tighter in order to keep his balance. He groggily lifted his head to scan the room and everyone else seemed to evaporate around them in the dim light, and in his dizzy state he wasn’t quite sure if this was real or not…his head spinning faster and faster, much like they were.

“Simon,” He whispered into the side of his neck, “ _Stop_. Please…” And his lips made their way closer, this time unexpectedly grazing that skin. And oh, how it smelled of Simon again, and oh, how soft it was…

Simon backed away and took Robert’s face in his hands.

“Rob? Are you okay?” He shook him gently, and that only made the spinning in his head worse. 

Robert closed his eyes slowly.

“No.” His laugh was feeble. He couldn’t believe the state he was in, and even worse, he couldn’t believe he was all over his newest, nicest friend like this, but he couldn’t help himself. He really was so very _nice,_ Robert thought, and his previously dark ideas had all but wiped clean from his mind as he continued to hold on to him. _So very nice looking...and nice smelling too,_ he concluded.

He squirmed and broke free, his gaze floating down to his feet.

“I um…” It was that weak laugh again, attempting to make light of his impaired condition, but more so, attempting to make light of what he was beginning to _feel_ ; the tingling and warmth in his body as Simon held his face…and he grappled for words, _any_ words to stop what he was certain would happen if he continued to look at him, continued to move close to him, “I don’t-I need to go…”

He stated at last, but it wasn’t as effective as he intended. Yes, he wanted to leave this place, but certainly not alone. What he truly meant, but was afraid to verbalize, was that he wanted Simon to come with him, more than anything.

***. ***. ***

The floor of the van was cold and hard as Robert tried to turn on his back atop the rough moving blankets within the cramped space, feeling some much-needed warmth from a body sitting upright against the wall beside him.

“Simon?” Robert murmured as he awoke, opening his eyes, finally realizing where he was, “Hey…”

And he nudged the figure propped up against him fast asleep, but there was no movement or response.

Robert sat up beside Simon and watched him as he slept. He continued to inch closer until their shoulders touched, moving in so close that he could hear Simon’s light snoring, could smell the remnants of beer and cigarettes on his breath as it blew lightly onto his face.

Simon stirred and tilted his head back against the wall, his long expanse of neck now visible, muscles moving as he swallowed and took a deep breath in his sleep. His face turned slightly towards Robert, and Robert continued to examine him, noticing his long lashes and how they quivered slightly as he dreamed…and his hand came up cautiously, daring to just barely touch a cheek which was surprisingly soft, yet lightly stubbled near his upper lip. Robert’s breath ceased for a moment. He could feel his heart skip a beat when he found himself preoccupied with that mouth, and his hand traveled further, shaking, as his fingertip landed on Simon’s slack bottom lip, tracing its outline slowly...and Robert was rapt. He moved his head a mere fraction and before anything registered, he pressed his lips to Simon’s. 

Adrenaline suddenly blocked out everything except the sound of blood running through his veins as he felt that moist, tender skin against his own mouth. He pressed a bit more until he felt Simon move beneath him and realized he was waking up. Robert quickly pulled back and cleared his throat.

Simon turned his head away, oblivious to Robert’s secret kiss, and his hand came up to rub the stiffness in his neck that dozing up against the wall had brought on. He blinked, taking in his surroundings.

“Did…? Shit…What-what time is it?” He yawned.

“No idea.” Robert immediately looked down at his hands and attempted to state that plainly, but his voice was too breathy, his cheeks burning. He felt flustered. He needed to pull himself together.

There were voices outside around them and the door to the van opened on the passenger side, letting in all the racket from the street, disturbing their private huddle; the interruption was almost jarring.

“Oi, lads! You in here?” Laurence’s head peaked in. They had been _discovered_ … Michael and Porl’s voices were heard as well, “Wake up wankers! Gotta load the last of the gear!” And Robert wanted to shrivel up and die. _Not now_ , he thought.

He was grumpy. Irritated that he and Simon had been disturbed, so much so that his misery was clearly palpable, not realizing it was also Simon whom he’d started to shun as they finished up, and as a result, very little was said. The lightness and playful drunkenness of the evening had promptly been extinguished.

Laurence, Michael, and Porl piled in the back amid the clutter and Robert got in the driver’s seat to drop them off one by one; it was their routine, but Robert felt a sinking disappointment, felt helpless as Simon wordlessly turned to leave.

He had no idea how Simon would be getting home. Didn’t know if his bandmates or friends were still around to give him a ride. He never cared or asked before now…

“Simon!” Robert called, and Simon immediately halted and turned to face the van, “Need a lift?” Robert cringed as those words exited his mouth. It sounded like a dreadful pick-up line now that he’d touched him and kissed him. Thankfully, Simon simply smiled at that offer—he seemed to have no idea, and Robert sighed with relief at that.

Simon walked toward the van and Robert nearly scrambled to open the door for him but stopped short; clearly, he wasn’t thinking straight. His mind was moving too fast, and he sat back and took a slow, deep breath to contain his eagerness. As Simon approached, Robert looked over his shoulder at the cramped space his bandmates huddled in, grumbling at the prospect of another passenger crowding them even more.

“Hang on…” Robert muttered, ignoring their protests, and hastily hurled a small amp and snare into the darkness behind him with Laurence and Michael shouting profanities as the items practically landed on their heads.

Simon climbed in and had no choice but to lie down across the seat on top of cables and a guitar case. His body leaned into Robert’s shoulder and arm, and that contact gave Robert pause for just a moment, settling into the warmth of Simon’s skin against his own before he put the van in gear and drove away.

***. ***. ***

The drive was excruciating. Even though each hadn’t lived far from the other and were on Robert’s way home, it was one of the longest journeys of his life. He was so preoccupied with the thought of being alone with Simon after everyone else was dropped off—the perfect plan, so pleased with himself for thinking of it—that he neglected the most important thing, and that was to enquire where Simon had actually lived. He’d been so caught up in the moment he simply found himself driving directly toward his neighborhood with Simon, the silent captive, still leaning into him.

“Shit.” Robert said, finally realizing where he was headed as he pulled up to the traffic signal, and he jerked the car to a halt, sending Simon and some of the equipment tumbling off the seat from the impact. 

Robert was horrified.

“Fuck, mate!” Simon called from the floor, half-joking, and Robert’s eyes widened as he watched Simon put his hands over his eyes…and laugh.

“Sorry.” Robert’s mumble was mostly under his breath and it was all he was able to say. He felt ridiculous and hadn’t noticed the signal changed until a few beeps sounded from cars behind them. Robert reluctantly put the car in drive and slowly continued on, his mind whirling, trying to think of something to make up for his awkwardness.

“Where are we going?" Simon crawled back up on the seat and when he moved back to lean against the door, Robert immediately took notice of the expanse between them.

“Eh, thought I was taking you home.” Robert responded casually, much too casually. He knew precisely where he wanted to go and it wasn’t to drop Simon off for the evening, at least not yet…

“Yeah? Well, we’re nowhere near it.” Simon scratched the back of his head, “Could use a drink first though.”

Robert couldn’t help but grin himself; that gorgeous, bright, playful smile seemed to light up the darkness.

“Where? Pubs are shut now.”

That much was true, and he could honestly say that he wanted nothing to do with any pub right then. Instead, he wanted a repeat of what happened in his van earlier but knew that was probably a very slim and distant possibility now. 

“Martin’s. A party…”

His hopes for time alone with Simon were ebbing away and, at this point, Robert would have to settle for whatever he could get.

“How far?”

“This isn't my side of town, so who bloody knows?” Simon glanced out of the window beside him and squinted, “Go back to the pub—I can get us to his place from there.”

Robert turned the van around, suddenly feeling like the evening was veering off course, and he sighed. It was going to be a long night...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of these two and their antics added in the next chapter here which was not my intent. This one's meandering longer than I thought!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work in progress. More will be posted as it develops.

You can’t be serious!” Robert was starting to lose his patience, “Don’t you know where it is?” 

They’d been driving in circles for ages, were nearly out of petrol, and at this point, he was getting tired. The area no longer looked familiar and it seemed as if they were moving farther and farther away from their destination.

“Well, I...could’ve sworn it was just…” Simon rubbed his eyes and pointed ahead of them, “Yeh, just round this corner. Turn here.

“What?” Robert yawned, “Where?”

“For fuck’s sake, _here!_ ”

“ _Where???_ ”

“ _Here!"_

The turn seemed to rush up from out of the darkness and Robert swerved in an attempt to avoid hitting a car parked along the road but wasn’t quick enough and, much to his horror, the van slid into the side of the small compact car and came to a halt as he slammed on the brakes. Simon braced himself, his hands reaching out for the dashboard while Robert was propelled into the steering wheel, the breath knocked out of him as the equipment in the back collided with his rickety seat, thrusting it forward.

“What the…?!” Robert’s yell was strained from the impact to his chest, “What the fuck, Simon!”

“ _Me?!_ ” Simon’s eyes widened in disbelief, “You-”

The sudden shouting outside was loud and too close to ignore, and when they both looked out ahead, two figures materialized from out of the mist and approached.

“Let’s go.” Simon’s voice was quiet, even calm at first, but when Robert froze his arm was jabbed forcibly, “ _Go_ , dammit!”

Robert immediately yanked the van into gear, punched the gas pedal and sped away.

“Shit!” Robert blurted as he tried to hold it steady, tried not to swerve, but the earlier rain made the roads slick and they fish-tailed, the equipment shifting and clanging about as he drove faster, the old van now shaking from the jolting increase in speed.

Simon turned around and knelt on the seat, leaning into the back area to peer out of the rear window and when Robert glanced over, he couldn’t help but notice Simon’s jeans and how tight they were… _What the fuck?!_ He thought. Now was not the time to be preoccupied with thoughts of his friend's ass! He shook his head and turned away, purposefully locking his gaze on the road straight ahead.

“I think...think we've lost 'em.” Simon turned back around in his seat, “Bloody hell!” He laughed and put his hands over his eyes, “What the fuck just happened?”

Robert didn’t answer, realizing just then that the entire situation was a comedy of errors—Simon’s exuberant laughter confirming that—and Robert managed to laugh as well, relieved that they escaped unscathed, but the van might not have been so lucky. He was reluctant to pull over, just knew it wouldn’t be a good idea; they needed to get as far away from wherever they were as possible, but the thought of stopping to assess the damage was too consuming.

He downshifted and the van seemed to gasp and jerk as though it was on the verge of stalling which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

“Right…I should-”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Rob.” Simon interjected, muttering through his yawn, “Still driving, innit?”

“Yeah…only just!” They both sputtered with laughter as the vehicle continued to groan and shake, and after a few moments, Robert sat back, his wave of worry dissolving little by little as they continued on with the van still in one piece, realizing Simon was probably right, and whatever dents the ramshackle vehicle had newly acquired, they’d more than likely blend in with all the others.

Their laughter calmed and he looked over at Simon, noticing how quiet he was as he looked out of the window watching the cars and lights.

Robert cleared his throat, “Um, not much petrol left.” He couldn’t deny that fact, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop either; he didn’t want this to end.

“Right,” Simon said, and Robert’s heart sank, feeling utterly impotent, knowing exactly what was going to be said even before he spoke again, “Suppose it’s late anyway. Should probably get home.”

“Oh…” Robert had hoped the weary disappointment in his voice was obvious, “Where do you live?”

“…Shit! Hang on!” Simon nearly to sprang up out of his seat, his body now turned toward the window.

“What?” Now Robert was truly confounded. The evening wasn’t turning out as he’d intended, yet in a peculiar way, it all held his interest— _Simon_ had somehow succeeded in holding his interest. He was so taken by his capriciousness that Robert couldn’t seem to hold back an amused grin.

“Martin’s!”

That name… It was the very response Robert did _not_ want to hear, nor did he expect. It smothered all hope.

“Well, I thought…” He couldn’t go on. He felt trapped.

“Turn here.”

And Robert did.

***. ***. ***

So many people…faces, voices…and none of them familiar. Unfortunately, he’d lost track of the only person with whom he felt a connection, and now that handsome face with the mischievous smile was nowhere to be found. Robert stood alone in a dark hallway which was miraculously devoid of the crowd he’d left behind downstairs and he backed up against the wall, an empty feeling beginning to engulf him as he took a long gulp of beer from his cup.

He felt silly standing there by himself, hoping… no, _waiting_ … It was desperate behavior and so unlike him. He was floundering, drifting into the unknown, suddenly realizing he had failed miserably when it came to Simon. Did he really think Simon would come rushing to seek him out? There was free booze, drugs, and worst of all, _girls_ down there. How could he possibly compete with all of that? His sigh was a defeated one, finally seeing right through all of this, seeing _himself_ for what he really was to Simon; just another bloke, just another convenient ride home, so obviously on _Simon’s_ terms… And now Robert felt expendable, his frown turning into a hard, bitter laugh.

He drained the last of the beer from his cup, dropped it, and walked toward the landing, peering down into the crowd on the floor below with contempt.

***. ***. ***

“Robert!” That voice… He knew exactly who it belonged to, but it was too late now, and he hurried to the curb, fumbling for his keys and dropping them, not bothering to acknowledge his name called from behind again.

“Rob!”

 _No._ He wouldn’t look back. His mind was made up.

Simon approached and stepped in front of him, but Robert kept his eyes averted, remaining stubbornly fixed on the pavement until Simon’s boots appeared directly in his line of vision as he bent to scoop up the keys.

“Been trying to find you!” Simon laughed, “Martin and me…”

As Robert straightened himself up and his gaze rose, his eyes were suddenly fixated on a pair of obscenely long, yet muscular legs, and Simon stepped in closer, so close that his familiar scent wafted by, bringing back flashes from before when they were in each other’s arms on the dancefloor, but that moment seemed like a million years ago.

He couldn’t escape. Robert felt ill…

“I’m heading home.” His voice was listless, and he tried to crack a smile, but it was thin, pale…and Simon noticed that, his eyes narrowing, even took a small step back.

“Oh…” His grin faded and he looked down, hands fidgeting, searching for his pack of cigarettes in his jacket pockets, “Sorry.”

Robert’s stare was now one of puzzlement. He had no idea why Simon would even be saying something like that, voice so quiet and small, unless perhaps…

But their brief moment alone immediately died.

“Hey!” A shout seemed to be coming from inside Martin’s.

“There it is!” Another voice yelled, “That same piece of shit that hit my bloody car!” The door shut and opened again with one man stepping out to peer into the foggy night toward the street. Toward _them_ …

“Fuck…” Robert grumbled under his breath, realizing it must have been the owner of the car he’d hit hours ago, “Simon, get in.”

Simon merely looked back at the house.

“Yeah, _you!_ ” The man bellowed and pointed at them as he began to run across the front garden, his associate tagging close behind.

Robert knew that if they didn’t climb in and leave, neither of them would be making it home any time soon but Simon remained adamant, his arms crossed, seeming to crave a confrontation just as badly. 

“ _Ha! Fuck you!_ ” Simon yelled back.

“Simon, come on!” Robert’s teeth clenched and he pulled at Simon's sleeve, “Let’s go!”

He turned quickly to open the door to the van, but the hard and unexpected punch to the back of his head sent him staggering forward.

Simon blurted something and Robert fell to his knees, crawling to the door as a scuffle ensued behind him. He heard fists hitting flesh and breathless expletives as he grappled for the handle, finally pulling it open, and clumsily climbing inside. He started the engine, pulled it into gear and the van lurched forward uncontrollably. His intention was to pull into the street and push the door open granting Simon access so they could escape, but during the confusion, the van rolled up and over the curb right in line with the three of them still fighting it out on the pavement. He knew this was dangerous—knew the consequences could be irreversible, even deadly—but when the van suddenly stalled, a strangled sound of relief and then exasperation escaped, quickly realizing he and Simon were now stranded. Trapped.

The brawl moved directly in front of him and it appeared that there was no sight of Simon. There were only two of them left from what Robert could see, and he was overwrought with dread and panic, hoping a body wasn’t pinned under the vehicle as he frantically tried starting it again, the engine finally turning over.

“Simon!” Robert called.

The passenger door swung open and Simon grabbed onto the seat, his hand bruised with cuts and flecks of blood, and Robert grasped his arm.

“I’m in!" Simon puffed, _"Go!"_

Robert’s foot hit the pedal and they skidded away, the passenger door still hanging open with Simon barely inside as they swerved back out onto the road.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't fret - smut's on the way very soon. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work in progress. More will be posted as it develops.

Robert’s head was still pounding as he pulled up in front of what he hoped was Simon’s house with Simon fast asleep.

“Si…” Robert nudged his shoulder with his hand.

Simon stirred, his head raising as he awoke, and he turned to Robert with a glazed, bleary expression.

“Hmm?”

Robert yawned, “Is this it?”

The house at the end of the street was large, dark, and quiet.

Simon looked out and squinted, “Uh-huh, this is it.”

“You alright?” Robert asked, seriously concerned. Simon hadn’t said much since he’d climbed in and they drove away.

“Yeah, suppose so.” Simon lifted his hand, examining the swelling and bruises, “Probably won’t be playing bass for a bit though.” He chuckled and put his hand down, “You?”

“I’ll be okay…” Robert touched the back of his head gingerly and winced at the twinge of pain.

“Fucking arseholes…” Simon opened the door, his voice unusually dejected and tremulous, “Thanks for the ride.” He hesitated, “Um… See you around then.”

“Sure.” Robert was outwardly calm but could feel the anxiety beginning to swell within. He knew he should have accepted Simon’s closing statement. Should have let it hang as it was and said goodnight, but right now he didn’t care about the possible blow to his ego, “So, can I call you?” He blurted and realized what that must have sounded like, immediately adding, “Uh…just to run a few ideas by you, song-wise.”

They were in separate bands, their music was completely different, some would say worlds apart, and they both knew that. Simon was caught off guard by his request and simply stared at Robert as if he had two heads before carefully responding.

“I-well… Some time, yeah.”

Robert could have sworn he saw a faint blush rise in his face even in the darkness that surrounded them, and Simon looked down at his feet.

The van choked and stalled for a moment until it seemed to gasp its last breath. It finally ran out of petrol just as Robert suspected it would—was actually surprised it hadn’t run out sooner—and he shook his head, his chest feeling heavy and tired.

“Out of petrol.” He announced quietly, his headache now in full swing.

“Oh, that’s…not good.”

He was exhausted and sore and turned around to rummage for one of the old blankets behind him, resigned to the fact that he would be bedding down here for the next few hours at the very least. He could barely keep his eyes open and there was nothing to be done until daylight.

“You can come in, you know.” Simon said, “You don’t have to sleep out here.”

Robert’s head snapped up. He wasn’t quite sure he heard him correctly.

“Huh?”

“Don’t be daft. Plenty of room, mate.” There was that smile again; weary, yet still so bright under the moonlight, “Come on.”

***. ***. ***

The den was cool, the sofa soft and comfortable, and the blanket was just warm enough. Robert finally felt relaxed and sat back, resting his sore head against the cushions, a long sigh escaping as he did so.

“Well…” Simon appeared after a brief absence and plunked down beside him, so close he was nearly sitting on top of Robert.

“Ow! Hey!” Robert giggled and watched Simon pull out a small bottle of vodka, his mysterious glint never wavering.

“Want some?” He unscrewed the cap and took a drink.

Robert’s eyes were wide. He was in utter amazement, “You never stop, do you?”

“Stop what?” Simon winked and passed the bottle.

Robert took a small sip and passed it back, feeling the weight of Simon’s head as it came to rest on his shoulder and his body stiffened, not knowing whether he should permit this or move away, not knowing if he should remain cautious or maybe…just maybe…that connection he felt all along truly _was_ a mutual one.

But there was no way of telling for sure because at this point, he had little to go on, no real way of knowing other than that small gesture of what could be perceived as merely one of comfort on Simon’s part, and now Robert’s mind was racing, perhaps he was beginning to overthink this situation… After all, they’d just arrived at Simon's, both deliriously exhausted with Simon still seeming sufficiently buzzed, and in addition to their late-night fender bender, they’d endured a minor beating—though Robert had been through worse and judging from the way Simon seemed to shrug it off, he assumed he'd been through worse as well.

They sat without saying a word for ages, shifting on the sofa from time to time with Simon’s head moving slightly as he took sips from the bottle less and less frequently, a light snore surfacing as he drifted off at last. Robert looked down, gently lifting the bottle from Simon’s hands as it sat in his lap and he screwed the cap back on, dropping it to the floor.

Simon shifted, snuggling closer to Robert and when his distinct smell reached Robert’s nose he breathed in deep, savoring it…wanting so badly to see his soft, dreaming face as he slept but Simon burrowed deeper into Robert’s side, his head pushing against his cheek.

Robert’s free hand cautiously came up to smooth the warm flesh of Simon’s arm…up and down so slowly…his lips gently landing on Simon’s head, kissing that soft hair.

“Goodnight.” He whispered letting his cheek settle back down on Simon’s head, the darkness of sleep seeping in around him until at long last, his eyes closed.

***. ***. ***

When he woke up bathed in the bright light of morning it took him a few minutes to orient himself, and once his eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar surroundings, he felt an equally unfamiliar warmth and heaviness against his chest. Pins and needles began to spread through his arm that was now asleep and as he attempted to slide it out from under the person practically sleeping on top of him, he managed to pull enough away to get a glimpse, instantly recognizing that hair he so gently kissed goodnight just hours before, and that face… Suddenly the realization of his actions; the secret kiss in his van, and everything else that happened soon after, including where he’d spent his time dozing for the night, swam through his still sore and muddled head.

Simon had finally opened his eyes, and once he did, Robert had not quite expected the strange and dark expression he saw take over.

It wasn’t until Simon spoke, mumbling and stuttering that he had to take a piss, that it made Robert remember just how bad he had to, as well. As he waited his turn, he mused dangerously; could swear he heard that low, tremulous voice from before, if only for a few seconds, and he wondered just what that could mean. Perhaps it was disappointment, or maybe even worse, regret. 

The door to the bathroom swung open and when Simon appeared it was one of the most awkward feelings in the world; the coldness as his friend brushed by him in the narrow hallway made Robert shiver. He couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough. 

***. ***. ***

He made it home in a little over an hour and laid back on his bed still fully clothed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling of the old plaster in his room, unable to close his eyes.

He was sleep-deprived, but his thoughts just wouldn’t stop. It was truly one of the most awkward mornings he ever had—apart from his mum walking in on him and Mary once after sneaking her in the night before. Though by that time Rita had found them merely sleeping, he still did get reprimanded. It was comical, almost as if that sort of behavior was expected from him, and he remembered how Mary had laughed from embarrassment... It was awkward, yet light-hearted. He would be forgiven in the end. But the awkwardness he experienced at Simon’s was another matter entirely; frigid and unforgiving, and Robert wondered why he would even compare the two completely different instances at all…

His thoughts shifted again, and he scowled, recalling with much confusion Simon’s reluctance to even say goodbye as Robert returned from the walk to the petrol station to add fuel to the van. He couldn’t understand why everything seemed to change. What he might have done wrong.

Perhaps he wasn’t as covert as he’d thought, and after Simon’s drunkenness had worn off, perhaps he did actually remember; maybe he hadn’t gotten away with that secret kiss after all. 

_Shit,_ Robert thought. He had to know, but how on earth could he possibly confirm something like that without asking the question directly? He would have to think of something, and fast. He couldn’t bear this.

Robert sat up, tired and rumpled and rummaged through his pockets for the slip of paper on which Simon had jotted down his phone number. He squinted at the numbers on the torn scrap and picked up the receiver, hoping he’d deciphered the tiny, messy scrawl correctly on the first attempt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work in progress. More will be posted as it develops.

“Why are you following me?” Simon asked, eyes wide yet still not meeting Robert’s, genuinely surprised that Robert turned up at the same record store.

“What do you mean? I always come here.” Robert said casually. It was sort of accurate anyway. He’d come here before a few times to shop, but not very often. It was more Simon’s turf than his. 

“Ha!” Simon forced a laugh of near sarcasm and Robert realized that he was probably overstepping his bounds, but he didn’t care. He had to set things back to how they once were. 

It had been weeks since he heard from or saw Simon, even in passing. The Easy Cure hadn’t been playing much lately, and when they did, Simon was nowhere to be found. Robert couldn’t stand it. He was never one to simply vanish; if there was an issue with someone, he couldn’t help but confront—regretfully sometimes. But even this situation was different; he actually _missed_ this person. 

“Well, I…” Robert sighed, “You won’t speak to me when I ring you, so I’d thought I’d find you here.”

“Why were you…?” And Simon looked down into the bin of records, lowering his voice so much that Robert could barely hear him at all, “Why have you been calling me?”

“Because we need to talk.” Robert said and knew that statement wasn’t right or appropriate. He regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth, but he could think of no other response. There was no use in trying to finesse this now.

“Why?” Simon finally turned to him, visibly upset, “About _what?_ I’ve nothing to say.” He moved away from Robert and walked into the next aisle, pretending to browse, but Robert could see him mindlessly flipping through the records with his jaw set.

He followed Simon deliberately and stood next to him again.

“Why are you angry with me? What the fuck did I do?”

“I…” Simon closed his eyes again, “I don’t know.” He shook his head, “I honestly don’t fucking know. I don’t know what…what _happened_ when we got to my place. What _we did_ …”

“ _What?_ ” Robert stopped and stared at Simon, mouth dropped open, not quite sure he understood exactly what he was hearing at first, refusing to believe what Simon was implying _._

Robert pulled at Simon’s sleeve, his head motioning in the direction of the exit and he led them outside the shop.

“Come on.” Robert turned and started to walk, but Simon remained obstinate and unmovable, “ _Please?!_ ” He insisted, throat taught with impatience and eyebrows raised as he waited for him to follow.

They reached the end of the block with no buildings, shops, or people lingering long enough to listen, and Robert sat on the short brick wall, his back meeting the shrubbery behind him.

“Simon, I don’t understand.” Robert tried to keep his voice quiet—a lame effort to contain his rising agitation—and looked down, “What did you mean…what _we_ _did_?”

Simon only shrugged.

Robert huffed. He was becoming frustrated, but at the same time, he dreaded to hear Simon's answer. He could see and feel how uneasy this confrontation turned out to be, especially how this pressure was impacting the person he so missed standing in front of him, but he couldn’t stop himself. His curiosity had gotten the better of him.

“Honestly, what does that mean?” He took a breath and paused, bracing himself, “Do you think I would…?”

And what Robert wanted to say was something along the lines of ‘ _Do you really think I would take advantage of you?’_ when that was precisely what he did in the back of his van. Is that what Simon meant? Is that what he really thought of Robert? Weirdly, he couldn’t deny it if pressed about it and now felt so guilty his head began to pound. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go.

“I didn’t say that. Just…I don’t remember what happened when we got back.” Simon raised his eyes and looked out into the street as he continued, “When we woke up like _that_ I thought… I don’t know… I was pretty fucked up.”

For some reason, Robert acknowledged that by letting out a breathy chuckle—that much was true; he was pretty far gone from what Robert remembered, and that small laugh had worked somewhat. At least it seemed to lighten the heaviness between them, if only for a moment.

“Yeah, right…” Simon whispered that and looked back at Robert, eyes softening a bit, but still on guard.

“Simon, why do you think something happened...um, after we got back?" Robert was careful to add that last bit of detail. He didn't even want to mention the liberty he took with Simon, and he finally pushed that thought aside, "I mean, you’re… As far as I know, I’ve always thought you were…” And Robert couldn’t go on. Didn’t even know what the hell he was saying. This was something that _wasn’t_ talked about with another bloke. Ever. Yet he was dying to know—was on edge simply waiting for his response.

“I…like you and didn’t want anything to-yeah…”

Robert sat up a bit at that, squinting from the sun as he looked up at Simon’s bowed head, his slouched shoulders.

“You-”

“Yeah,” Simon interjected. He reached into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes and lighted one, exhaling a long plume of smoke before his mouth formed more words, the sounds of which Robert was sure he wasn’t hearing properly, “I-I _like_ you...alright?”  
  
Robert was speechless.

The long silence between them felt like an eternity and when Robert tried to open his mouth, no sound came. It was absolutely horrendous. He was literally paralyzed.

Simon chucked his cigarette into the street, looked down at his feet and sniffed, “Right…”

And there it was: that same, low defeated tremor in his voice.

Simon turned on his heel. He was leaving and Robert couldn’t allow it.

“Simon, I…” What he meant to say—words of reassurance—didn’t surface.

Robert panicked, bolted up from the wall and reached out to grab hold of his shirt, but Simon flinched, glaring at Robert’s hand that landed firmly on his sleeve and he pulled back.

“Stop!” Robert raised his voice suddenly, causing some passersby to turn and look him up and down.

A flash of paranoia made him think that everyone knew just why he sounded so desperate, and he felt completely ridiculous standing on the pavement shouting after his friend like this, but somehow it worked; Simon stopped in his tracks.

“It’s okay…” Robert reassured quietly, making sure the softness in his voice was apparent. It was all he could do without reaching out to touch him again, though he wanted to, but didn’t dare. Not here.

Robert heard a long sigh come from the slouched figure standing in front of him, could hear him light another cigarette and inhale, but there was no acknowledgment.

“Can I call you later?”

The question hung in the air for ages with neither one of them looking at the other; Simon still faced the other way and Robert looked across the street at nothing at all.

“Yeah, sure…” Such a quiet, placid response…and then he was off, walking purposefully away from Robert and up the road.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shout out and many thanks to JustAnotherFanficLover for your lovely idea to spruce up this chapter with some treehouse fun! It really has helped me emerge from my writer's block.
> 
> Also, a few changes in this chapter as I thought the flow didn't quite work.
> 
> More to come, (heehee) of course!

Robert had walked past the phone in the hallway just outside of his room so many times he lost count, and each time he passed by, he stared at it as it sat alone on the worn wooden table. He never really took notice before at how marred and hideous it was: the black on the receiver rubbed away in some areas with scratches and dents just from use over the years… It was now quiet and still, and such quietness had made Robert feel even more guilty at not taking advantage of its availability. He broke his word to Simon; it was already the next afternoon and he had not called the day before like he said he would.

He thought it over so many times when he awoke alone as the afternoon drifted into evening—his sleep frequently interrupted by doubt and whirling thoughts, but he simply could not pick up the phone. He wanted it to be like every other call to his mates, but with Simon already intimating so much, what could he possibly say to him now? What would they actually talk about? Everything about their friendship had changed dramatically even before it really began.

“Fuck…” Robert groaned and stopped as he exited the bathroom, intending to go back to his room and hide under the blankets in his bed, but he knew what he needed to do; what he finally _should_ do. He turned and marched toward the phone and after taking a deep, calming breath, picked up the receiver.

***. ***. ***

He was relieved, delighted when Simon finally agreed to see him, suddenly feeling absurd by his anxiety, though he had to admit that their conversation had started off quiet and somewhat guarded, and thankfully, they discussed nothing about what transpired a few days before. Their tones were almost normal…almost.

As he pulled in front of Simon’s house, he could see him flinging the front door open, his sister saying something in passing as she rushed by through the front garden and over to a waiting car. As he watched Simon emerge from the house, he was instantly fixated on the figure now walking toward his van. He couldn’t take his eyes off of those long legs trudging across the expanse of grass, the white denim accentuating how exquisite they really were with the muted light of dusk giving off a soft glow as he approached.

Robert had to look away.

This was _silly_ , he thought as he blushed.

A tap on the window startled him. It was Simon standing there motioning for him to come outside and Robert hesitated at first, he was marginally confused, yet, realizing that as frustrating as Simon’s arbitrary qualities were, this was simply how he was…and for some reason, he seemed to enjoy inflicting this on Robert. That made him laugh and he could only imagine what Simon would say if he told him so, perhaps already knew just what Robert was thinking. _All-knowing Simon_ … And he laughed again, his cheeks heating up as he shook his head.

He suddenly felt utterly foolish standing in front of him like this, just tittering, though he could never remember a time when he felt so pleasantly muddled without his perception being altered by drink or drugs. He felt… _happy?_

It was probably a pointless question, but he had to say something, otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Um, I…” Robert choked back another giggle, “…thought we were going to-”

“Yeah…just over there.”

Simon turned and pointed at an expanse of grass and trees and Robert squinted in the hope to see something other than darkness, but there was nothing. He scratched his head and shrugged; he could only wonder.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Past the house over there…the old shed.”

“What shed?”

A flash of a sly smile and then Simon bolted up the hill, catching Robert by surprise. He sucked in a breath and scuttled after him into the night, gaining on him until he was finally able to get close enough to grab at the hem of his shirt, both of them laughing as they ran.

“Wait!” Robert blurted, suddenly feeling light-headed as Simon slowed down and turned toward him, backing into a large tree.

“Ow! Shit!” Simon’s hearty laugh faded, and he leaned against the trunk, his head tilting back onto the gnarled bark.

“Are you…?” Robert stopped to lick his lips, to catch his breath, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” Simon brought his head forward, his grin bright and crooked, “I think…Dunno. My hand still hurts a bit I guess.”

“Oh?” Robert took a step forward, his smile nearly as wide as Simon’s, practically beaming from the mad idea that popped into his mind, and he couldn’t deny that it was like something from out of a dream when he reached down to grasp Simon’s injured hand.

The moment had a quiet, ethereal quality about it that made Robert’s head spin. They were both still a bit breathless, both still grinning, the evening mist swirling around them slowly…and with Simon’s hand still in Robert’s clasp, he dared to raise it up to examine it under the hazy light, soon discovering there was no visible sign of injury at all.

“It looks fine.” Robert assured. Clearly, there was no bruising or swelling of any kind that could be seen.

“Mmm…” Simon agreed softly, “Still sore though.”

Robert could think of nothing to say to that, and suddenly realized that he couldn’t stand to see his dearest friend hurting in any way. He wanted to take away any pain he was feeling, no matter how trivial or ridiculous it sounded. He wanted to comfort him, wanted to show Simon that he really cared…

Impulsively, he drew that hand in so close he was sure that Simon felt his breath, and he kissed the back of it lightly. It was the faintest kiss, just a flutter of trembling lips on warm skin, taking care to be gentle.

“Better now?” His whisper was surprisingly feeble and breathy, finally aware that his other hand was still clutching the hem of Simon’s shirt.

_Just what in the hell was he saying? What exactly did he think he was doing here?_

He released the shirt roughly, fingers grazing a bit of soft skin underneath as he pulled away…and Robert could have sworn those dark eyes closed briefly at his touch.

The dizzying warmth he now felt as he stood before Simon consumed him and when he took a bold step forward, this time, he kissed _him._

Robert’s hands were clammy and shaking and moved pensively to squeeze Simon’s fingers ever so slightly. Hoping the longing in his touch would be unmistakable, and when Simon unexpectedly returned the kiss so slowly, Robert nearly swooned. This was so very different from his first attempt in the van and so much better; almost magical as their lips met delicately, with Simon’s so warm and full against his own, and Robert pulled back briefly to be sure his mind hadn’t permanently left reality.

He was irresistible, and as Robert heard that word float across his mind about his newest friend, he knew he had to compose himself. As much as he would have loved to stay right here with Simon up against the gnarled old tree all night, it didn’t seem like the best option.

“Um, it’s getting cold…” Robert’s smile was shy and tender, and he released Simon’s hand.

Simon turned for a moment and wiped his mouth, “Yeah, come on.”

***. ***. ***

When the doors were unlocked and opened, Robert waited at the threshold as Simon stepped inside. After a few seconds there was a flickering light that broke through the darkness and he peered inside, finally able to get a muted glimpse at the surroundings from the lighter that Simon held aloft. The shed was tiny, run down and cramped: a rusted, tattered chaise took up an entire corner, a few rickety chairs were scattered about along with gardening equipment and planters, and an abandoned, dusty snare drum and dented cymbal sat on a bent stand, jammed into another corner. Simon kicked a few empty bottles and cans aside, reached behind the chaise and pulled out a small bottle of tequila. He grinned and passed it to Robert first.

Robert took it reluctantly, unscrewed the cap and took a quick drink, practically holding his breath, frowning as he gulped it down—tequila was never his beverage of choice, and without hesitating, he passed it back to Simon.

“So…” Robert quietly surveyed what he could of their surroundings now that they were plunged into black again, “Do you honestly play that snare?”

Simon looked down and chuckled, “God no… Not anymore. Used to come out here a lot years ago just to get away from the racket.”

“Oh?” Robert scanned the dilapidated structure again and wondered why anyone would want to come out here.

Simon shrugged, “It was kind of tough to just sit and think…with everybody always around. I don’t come out here much these days though. When I got my own room, I sort of stopped.”

“Oh…” Robert could sympathize as he had quite a few siblings himself. There was a big age gap between himself and his older brother and sister, and they had already been married and out of the house by the time Robert was a young teen.

“Well, anyway…” Simon took a drink from the bottle, “I know a much better place then here.”

“Where?”

Simon walked past Robert to the doorway and pointed outside.

“Up there. The treehouse.”

A glimpse of that sparkling smile in the moonlight…

***. ***. ***

They sat on the wood board nailed between the fork in the massive oak tree trunk in silence, just drinking for a bit, with the odd swish of a car or two the only sound through the trees. It was an odd feeling, almost too quiet for Robert. Admittedly, he never truly sat still anymore; these days he was always so occupied with life in general and of course, his music, but now this sliver of breathing space felt nice.

“Hey.” Simon finally spoke, “Gonna hog that bottle or can I have a drink?”

Robert snapped out of his trance, “Shit, sorry… Here.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah ‘course. Why?” There was a guarded, unpleasant edge in his response and he hastily changed gears, forcing a out a small laugh.

“Uh-hmm…” Simon hummed, “Sure, that’s what you always say.”

“ _What?_ ” And Robert scooted closer, his shoulder purposely knocking into Simon’s, nudging him playfully, “Well, you’re pretty quiet right now too, you know.”

Simon snickered, “Nothing wrong with thinking sometimes, is there?” He looked down and dangled those long legs over the edge of the wooden board.

“No, but… Well, when I do you always take the piss!”

“And why not? I know how you think, Rob.”

Robert was truly aghast. How could he possibly…?

“Yep…” It was as if he knew that Robert disagreed with him somehow. His grin wasn’t visible, but it was there in his voice, “Like I’ve said before, you can be a miserable bastard sometimes.”

“Well…” Robert thought for a moment, adding for no other reason than nothing else coming to mind quickly, “To know me is to love me, isn’t it?”

“Ha-ha!” He sputtered, holding his stomach at Robert’s random retort, “You’ve gone all barmy on me now!”

“Nope.” Robert shook his head emphatically as Simon continued to laugh, “No, I haven’t at all. I’m not barmy…or miserable. I’m quite happy…right now that is…”

“And why is that?”

Robert took a breath and held it, the sound of trees rustling around them suddenly amplified as he prepared to formulate one simple, yet frightening, word.

“You…”

Robert could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, “Is that okay?”

Simon nodded, but kept silent, eyes still focused downward.

“Simon… Is that okay.” Robert repeated, his hand coming up under Simon’s chin to gently turn his head, only to meet sparkling, moist eyes…

At that precise moment, he wasn’t sure which one of them initiated it, and at that point he didn’t care, he only knew it was happening again: _Another kiss_ … And it was something that he would _never_ tire of.

He pushed this time, tongue prodding at Simon’s lips to part them, and such sweet acceptance made Robert weak.

He sighed into his mouth and turned slightly, gently easing Simon back, knowing the hard board underneath must have been uncomfortable, and although he never wanted to hurt Simon, he became caught up and flustered, excited…so much so that at that very moment, he simply didn’t care where they were or what was happening. He just knew that he wanted _this_ … He wanted Simon.

_*to be continued*_


End file.
